


Love Bites

by ThatDestielShipper



Series: Johnlock OneShots [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthdays, Coming Out, Love Bites, M/M, meet the parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDestielShipper/pseuds/ThatDestielShipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock takes John to meet his parents, John gets a little shy when he finds out that they don't know about his and Sherlock's relationship. He gets even more shy when he sees the fuckton of love bites Sherlock has left everywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Bites

**Author's Note:**

> I googled what Sherlock's parents names were and lots of pages suggest Siger and Violet were the most likely, so I used those.  
> I'm kinda not happy with the way Sherlock's dad acts, if we hadn't have met them in the show, I would've been fine with it, but how he's repressed in the show, is a lot different to how I've written him... So I might go back and rewrite bits... I dont know, what do you guys think?
> 
> Please enjoy :D xx

"We have to go see my parents tomorrow." Sherlock announced. He and John were laying in bed, both their necks and chests were peppered with fresh love bites.   
John looked up at Sherlock from where he was lying his ear over the taller mans heart,  
"We?" He questioned. He'd never met Sherlock's parents, and Sherlock had never expressed the desire for that to ever change,   
"Well they asked /me/ to come and see them it's dads, or mums, or the cats birthday, and I thought, because, well, we have," he stumbled through trying to explain, all of a sudden really nervous. He took a breath, "we've been doing this, being together, for 236 days, and we have been friends for almost 5 years, and they've never met you. And I thought you could come. Y'know if you wanted." John smiled when he heard how long they'd been together, Sherlock had been counting.   
John shuffled up so he was laying level with Sherlock,   
"You sure?" He asked, his breath blowing on the nape of Sherlock's neck, Sherlock turned to face John, wincing a little at the bruise forming on his jugular, smiling at him, Sherlock opened his mouth to answer, at the same time as John swore,   
"Fuck." Sherlock frowned, "have you told your parents about the past 235,"   
"236." Sherlock corrected smirking,   
"236 days?" John asked not looking the taller man in the eye, and instead staring intently at the multiple marks he'd left on Sherlock's neck and shoulder,   
"Well I don't even know why we've got to go to see them, so informing them of my relationship status would be a logical miscommunication too." Sherlock started, John looked up at him, his eyes set as if to say, 'plain English please' "n-no. Mother has always thought I was gay, because I didn't have a girlfriend when I was a child. I didn't feel like giving her the satisfaction." John groaned and rolled backward so he was lying on his back, hand on his face. Sherlock rolled to his side, "What's the problem?" John shook his head,   
"Sometimes I forget it's /you/ I'm with." He muttered,   
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sherlock sounded a little hurt, but when John parted his fingers, there was a smirk on his face,   
"We cannot show up to your parents, both with a load of love bites on our necks, and just hope they don't assume anything, because parents like to be told things, not find out from other things." When Sherlock didn't say anything John moved his hand, the detective looked as though he didn't know whether or not to laugh at or hug his other half. "What?" John scoffed,   
"You're worried you'll upset mother?" Sherlock muttered,   
"That and it's embarrassing." Sherlock frowned,   
"You didn't seem too embarrassed when your teeth were on my neck and you were riding my-" John backhanded Sherlock in the chest,   
"I'm not embarrassed of them, I'm embarrassed that your mum and dad are going to see them, and make assumptions, and we'll look like a secondary school teenaged couple." He paused, "I'm going to have to find that hideous turtle neck jumper, and you're going to have to wear some camp-looking scarf." He told Sherlock. This time Sherlock laughed out loud,   
"You've really not met my mother." John frowned, "Scarves at the dinner table? And turtle neck jumpers aren't smart wear, and seeing as it's probably a birthday, they've probably invited a few guests. Plus I burned the jumper because it really was awful. You're just going to have to wear a shirt with the buttons done up to the top." John huffed and rolled out of bed and walked over to the mirror on the dresser,  
"Jesus Sherlock!" He half-shouted, "How many? Jesus, that one broke the skin a bit!" He ran his fingers over the marks, licking his finger to rub the tiny spot of blood from his collar bone. Sherlock slid out of bed and walked across the room, and stood behind behind the shorter man,   
"You've been gone nearly a week," John looked up and looked as though he was about to protest, Sherlock slipped his hands around John hips, "I'm not saying you shouldn't have gone to see your sister, I'm just saying I missed you." John looked at their reflection together and smiled,   
"Fine! But when we get there, you're going to tell your parents so they don't sit there staring at us both, and don't end up putting us at opposite ends of the table."   
"Fine, but if she's has some kind of celebration of me finally coming out or any thing stupid, you owe me a box of cigarettes... a 20 pack, because she is unbearable at the best of times." He sighed, and looked over at the alarm clock, "it's 8oclock, what do you think, should we go back to bed?" He skimmed his lips along the shorter mans jaw bone, John turned his head and caught Sherlock's lips with his own,  
"No more biting," he told the detective when they broke away, Sherlock pouted, "okay, no biting my neck," Sherlock smiled, and half dragged his lover back to their bed, "I swear to god if the shirt doesn't cover them all.." John muttered as they went.

John fiddled with the collar in front of the mirror in the living room, trying to pull it up a little further to cover the purple-red mark that stretched up too high. He glared at the detective across the room,   
"This one wasn't here when I looked in the mirror last night." He scolded. Sherlock looked up at his from where he was bent tying his laces, he smiled,   
"Whoops." John grabbed a piece of paper from the table in front of him, not caring that it was the patient document from work, he balled it up and throw it at the mans head,   
"You're such a dick sometimes." he told Sherlock before stalking to the kitchen to finish his tea, his back to the living room.  
Sherlock stood up and walked into the kitchen too, standing behind John until he put down his mug.   
"John? Turn round." He asked, John turned round glaring at his partner. Sherlock stepped a little closer so he had John pressed up against the kitchen side, he ran his hand down his hip and legs, and then quickly hoisted him up so he was sat on the counter top, level with Sherlock's towering frame. Even as annoyed as John was with Sherlock, he still marvelled at the strength in his skinny arms. He folded his arms. "I'm sorry okay. I did just forget what you said about your neck." John raised an eyebrow, "If it makes you feel better you can buy some of that foundation stuff on the way?" John sighed,  
"No, I suppose I'll just have to deal with it. And seeing as you're wearing that fucking open neck shirt." He gestured to the the purple silk shirt Sherlock was wearing, his top 3 buttons undone showing off his amazing collarbones, "it's kind of pointless me trying to hide my neck too." Sherlock smiled,   
"Mother won't complain. I swear she'll probably give you an extra slice of cake just know you live with me and put up with my 'eccentricities'" he air quoted, "Seeing these," he ran his finger over the protruding bruise, "and her connecting the dots, she'll probably buy you an entire bloody country." John huffed and put his arms down.   
Sherlock checked his watch,   
"Time to go then." He said, resting his hands on Johns hips, "do I get a kiss for apologising?" He asked smirking. John rolled his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips. He pulled Sherlock a little further forward, and pressed his lips to the detectives. Sherlock's hands slipped down to John's thighs, rubbing them up and down, and kneading where he had the previous night, "You're complaining about your neck, just imagine her face if she saw your thighs." Sherlock laughed, pulling away, grabbing John's hand, dragging him from the counter top and out the door, pulling his coat from the hanger as they passed it.

"Sherlock!" A woman flung herself out the the door, wrapping her arms around the tall man. Sherlock patted her back awkwardly until she let go,   
"Mother." He nodded looking like he'd rather be sitting in the rose bush by the door. In a typical motherly fashion she took his face in her hand, twisting it to the side and backward and forward,   
"You've lost weight." She kissed him on the forehead. John was stood a little behind him holding in a laugh. She pushed Sherlock aside, "and you must be John." She stretched out a hand to him. John coughed and straightened up,   
"John, John Watson, pleasure to meet you Mrs Holmes." He said shaking her hand. She laughed and pulled him closer, she looked him close in the face,   
"Mother." Sherlock called from where he was standing behind them. She backed up,   
"I was just looking at who my... I'm sorry Mr Watson, curiosity got the better of me. Please call me Violet." She told him, an all too familiar smirk playing at her lips. She turned and walked back in through the door, Sherlock and a John followed her in, "Will you two be staying the night, I know that you dislike travelling on trains at night Sherry," John sniggered, "Mike has the spare master room, but I can turf his highness out into the other small room, if you two want to share a room, being friends?" She looked over her shoulder, casting a fond smile at her youngest son, who sighed,  
"Depends how much whiskey John drinks, mother. But I brought some spare clothes anyway, and the master room would be good, Mycroft has always had tastes to large for himself. Is he here yet?" They followed her up the stairs.  
"Yes, he arrived at 10:30 this morning, like I said to when I invited you both, only it's almost 4 Sherlock, it's almost as if you didn't want to come." They came to a halt outside the first door in a long hallway. Violet knocked and let herself in before Mycroft could invite them. "Mikey, up. You're on the other room now. Sherlock and his friend are using this one now."   
Mycroft was sat in the armchair reading a London broadsheet. He flicked the corner down and looked at the three of them over it.   
"I'm quite comfortable mother, I'd much rather stay in here." Violet put a hand on her hip, and raised an eyebrow.   
"Mycroft Holmes, move your behind from the chair and take yourself and your belongings into the other room. You might be 42 years old, but I will not hesitate to clip you round the ear. Sherlock and his /friend/ are using this room." Mycroft sighed, folded up his newspaper, picked up his bag from the end of the bed and left the room, nodding at John as he passed. "There you boys go, a nice room for the two of you. Dinner is almost ready, so come down at 4:30. And Sherry dear, Mr Smythe is here, he is your fathers best friend. It's your fathers birthday, so behave. If you can't think of anything nice to say to Mr Smythe then don't talk." She looked at John, "Sherry and Mr Smythe have never seen eye-to-eye." He smiled and nodded, she turned and opened the door,  
"Sherlock, don't you want to talk to your mother?" John hinted, looking at the detective and then his mother. Sherlock frowned,  
"No, why ever would I need to do that? Goodbye mother, see you at dinner." Violet smiled and left the room shutting the door softly. John rounded on Sherlock. "She worked it out." He told John before the insults could start. John opened and closed his mouth a few times,  
"How?" He stuttered. Sherlock sighed,   
"Well we both turn up together, both with a lot of love bites, she obviously guessed from the one you can see, that you had as many as I do, you are he first friend I have ever brought home, even since I was a child, we live together, I gratefully accepted a room together, and not the room across the hall that has twin beds, as opposed to the king sized bed in here," he gestured to the huge bed behind him, "and a Mycroft got here first, and he love telling 'mummy' tales about me, so telling her I have a boyfriend and haven't told her is just the thing he'd report." Sherlock rolled his eyes and dropped his backpack on the floor and climbed on to the bed, kicking off his shoes, and rolling over, so he was propped up on his elbows facing John. "Care to test the bed?" He asked smirking. Immediately John took of his tie, shoes and socks, and slid his belt from around his waist, and climbed onto the bed, straddling Sherlock's hips and leaning down to meeting his lips. 

"So John, what do?" Siger leant across Sherlock to talk to him, Violet slapped his arm,   
"Mind Sherry." She whispered. He leant back, patting Sherlock on the shoulder. Under the table Sherlock kicked John in the foot, indicating that he should talk,   
"Um, I'm a doctor. I served in Afghanistan for a few years, and then when I came home, I began work in a doctors surgery not far from where me an- Sherlock and I live." Siger laughed,   
"That's good, Sherlock used to run into walls repeatedly, just to see what it felt like, and how many times it would take until he broke skin or passed out. I should expect he's grown up a little since, but no doubt he's still blowing things up in the kitchen. So it's nice you're on hand to put on the plaster and kiss it better." He laughed again.   
"The amount of times I've had to remove shards of glass from his hands and stitch it up," John joked with him, "he's like a child with a chemistry set half the time." Siger and Violet laughed. Mycroft and the other guests, Mr Smythe, his wife, and Mrs Holmes' sister, seemed engrossed in their own small conversations, and were ignoring the conversation at the head of the table.  
"I bet you're sick of him. Isn't there anywhere else you could live, I know how unbearable he is to live with." Sherlock's dad enquired.   
"Oh no, I like living with him. Everyday, something different happens, it's nice, nicer than just a plain life. Plus he's well aware that I'll give him a black eye if he blows up too many parts of the kitchen," John smiled at his partner, who was turning peas over on his plate, "or leave to many severed limbs in the freezer." Sherlock looked up,   
"They are hygienically stored!" He argued,  
"I found half a nose and the full working joints of a hand in one of the freezer draws, I had to throw away a draw full of food, and disinfect the entire freezer!" John argued back. Sherlock crossed is arms in a sulk, John rolled his eyes, and continued to chop up his potatoes. Violet put a hand over her mouth to hide a smile.  
"You enjoy living with him?" Siger carried on as if the disagreement hadn't happened, "He still acts like a petulant child 90% of the time."   
"Yeah, but it's part of him. I've learnt to deal with it. It's more 65% when he's at home. Other people bring out the 5 year old in him. You should see him when Mycroft pays us a visit, they could argue over the time of day, just for the sake of arguing. And when Lestrade or Molly, our colleagues, come round both for work and social visits, he has to show off, like a peacock." Sherlock silently imitated John, which received a scolding from his mother. Siger waved his fork around, gesturing to his youngest son,  
"Social visits? You mean he has friends outside of you?" John frowned,  
"He can be charming when he's not showing off. We had Greg, Molly and Mrs Hudson over just before Christmas, other than almost upsetting Molly, it was great." Sherlock looked up again,   
"Upsetting Molly wasn't intentional. I apologised." His father laughed,  
"He apologised? You've trained him well." He told John,   
"Trained? M-" John began, but he was cut off,  
"I notice, John, that you use 'we' a lot when referring to yourself and Sherlock. Why is that?" Siger inquired. John spluttered a little, before coughing. Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes,   
"Don't pretend you haven't worked it out yet father, or that Mycroft hasn't told you." Mycroft went quiet in his conversation flow, "Mother has barely been able to contain herself for the past 45 minutes. Everything John says she gets excited." He rolled his eyes again. Siger crossed his arms, and looked directly at Sherlock for the first time since they'd sat down.  
"Maybe I wanted one of you tell me, as opposed to hearing it from your brother, or having to guess from all those juvenile bruises on both of your throats." John adjusted his collar again.   
"Mycroft can never keep his mouth shut. Can you Mike?" Sherlock raised his voice loud enough so Mycroft could hear him on the other side of the table. Mycroft angled himself further toward Mrs Smythe, and began talking loudly. Sherlock sighed.   
"Stop being so dramatic." John told the detective, trying to keep his voice low enough so as not to be heard by Sherlock's parents, "I told you parents like to be told directly. Most people see coming out as a big thing. And you left it to them to work it out." Mrs Holmes covered her mouth again, a smile that said 'they're adorable' playing at her lips, "How about we wait until the end of the meal, and when everyone else is gone, and do it the old fashioned way? You can introduce me as your boyfriend, and we can not cause a scene at your fathers birthday dinner?" Sherlock sighed, and nodded. John slipped a hand under the table and gripped the hand Sherlock had tucked between his leg, rubbing his thumb across the back of his hand.   
"So, Mrs Holmes. What exactly is the book you wrote about? Sherlock tried to explain it to me, but he went off on a tangent about apes in small enclosures, or something and he lost me." John looked at Violet smiling,   
"Wait we-" Siger started talking before his wife could. She slapped his arm and looked at him pointedly. Sherlock's father sighed, much like Sherlock himself had been before. But kept quiet. Violet smiled, and then began explaining what her newest book was about.

It was almost 9pm before Mrs Holme's sister left, a cab taking her home, as the rain, which had started as they finished dinner, came down in sheets, meaning in the few second from the door, through the gate and into the car, she was soaked to the bone. The rest of the dinner had been uneventful, John had made his conversation with Sherlock's mother take them through dessert, and they had even gotten Sherlock to contribute. Now they all sat in the living room, each of Sherlock's parents in arms chairs at opposite sides of the fire place, while John and Sherlock sat on the 2 seat sofa. Mycroft had brought one of the dining chairs in and was sitting to the right of his mother. John looked between the two parents,  
"Because it's easier, let's pretend this is our first meeting?" Violet nodded. John turned to Sherlock, and gestured with his eyes that he should start talking. Sherlock suppressed a sigh, and then pushed himself forward, one hand on the edge of the sofa, and the other on John's knee, he didn't move his hand from John as he began talking.  
"Mother, father, I-" he began,  
"And Mike." His mother added on the end,   
"What is the point in adding Mycroft in this? He's literally know since the beginning, almost." His mother looked at him,  
"This is a family announcement, you will include your brother. Whom without, I doubt this conversation would have happened." Sherlock rolled his eyes,   
"Fine. Mother, father and Mycroft. This is John Watson. He and I have been in a" he sighed as if he didn't want to have to state the obvious, "relationship for around 8 months. We have lived together for just over 5 years." He squeezed John's knee, "seeing as I have never had any attraction to women," John muttered, 'Irene', "any normal women, one would assume I fall under a homosexual, or male dominated bisexuality bracket. I didn't think it was important to tell you like this, seeing as you're all relatively intelligent, but John, and father's outburst at dinner seem to say otherwise." He shrugged and leant back in his seat, slipping his hand in John's where it was between them. Sherlock's mother leant forward,  
"How did you meet?" She asked, beaming.  
"We both needed somewhere to live, and a colleague of Sherlock's, and an old class mate of mine suggested I see a flat with Sherlock, and it was pretty much a done deal the moment he got out of the taxi. We got along quite well from the start."John explained. Almost simultaneously, John and Sherlock smiled, as they both remembered their first case together. Violet collapsed her hands in her lap.   
"You're obviously a good influence on him, if he's actually got friends, and you've got him actually admitting he's wrong and apologising. So I have no reservations about you." Siger concluded.   
"Do try to remember I'm a 33 year old man father, not a small child." Sherlock told him, his voiced bored. Mycroft smirked, the way you'd expect an older brother to when they're watching a sibling being told off.  
"I'm well aware of your age, Sherlock. But you know as well as I, you have trouble making friends because you don't know when to not talk, and you get bored too easily." His father lectured him.  
"Again, I'm not a child." He stood up, dragging John with him, and straightening his trousers. "Now that I've told you, and you all seem happy with it, we're going to bed. And yes mother, before you ask, we regularly share a bed, John only sleeps in his own bed when I'm sleeping 'awkwardly'" he air quoted "or he's working late and doesn't want to wake me up. Anything else?" No one answered so he began to make his way to the door, just before he made it to the stairs, his fathers voice carried through,  
"Next time I have a meal, and there are guests, you are to wear a high collared shirt, buttoned to the top, if you want to let your boyfriend leave marks everywhere." John went red, while Sherlock ignored him and continued upstairs.

"See why I never visit my parents?" Sherlock asked as he and John were undressing and changing into clothes to sleep in. Sherlock wore a cotton tshirt and his boxers, while John wore one of Sherlock's old flannel shirts, that was too small now, with his red Y-fronts. "My father acts like I'm still a child, and my mother is overbearing." He sighed, for the millionth time that day. John laughed,  
"Your mum isn't that bad. She's probably just happy at you've got a partner." Sherlock climbed into bed,  
"Why does it matter to her?" He asked, flipping open the duvet and patting it to invite John in. John clamoured in, pulling the duvet round his hips as he leant against the headboard,  
"It matters because she's your mum. It's what they do. You only have to deal with her at breakfast, and then we're going home." Sherlock shrugged,  
"S'pose." He agreed, before rolling himself over, and straddling John's lap. He leant down to whisper in the smaller mans ear, "Have I told you yet how fucking sexy you look in my old shirt" John blushed,  
"Your parents bed room is literally next door." He whispered back,  
"What'a life without a little risk?" Sherlock smirked, kissing John's jaw. John pushed Sherlock's tshirt up a little so he could grip the detective's boney hips, scratching lightly at the skin.   
"How about we make a bet then?" He whispered, kissing Sherlock's neck while he waited for Sherlock to agree. "We can do what ever tonight, have sex, just foreplay, whatever, and who ever is loudest loses. Like whoever your mum or dad hears and can't make eye contact with at breakfast." Sherlock laughed, the sound low and throaty,  
"Are you trying to shock my parents? You'll scare me to death."   
"I'm pretty sure your mum would celebrate if she hear us doing anything." John laughed.   
"I will never be able to tell you I love you enough times." Sherlock told him, an edge of seriousness in his tone. "What happens to the loudest?" He asked.  
"Neither of us are working tomorrow. So slave for a day?" John joked. Sherlock's lips scuffed the cleft of John's ear when he spoken the next 6 words,  
"I have a French maids costume."he whispered. John raised an eyebrow, and hen they sealed the bet with an electric kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Right, I'm leaving this incomplete because depending on the reception, I can write another chapter or two, the sex and then the 'punishment' ... It's just depends on whether y'all would read it.. So yeah comment if you'd read them both ? And as I said at the beginning, tell me what you think of the way Sherlock's dad acts, please (: 
> 
> Comment, leave kudos, and DFTBA (: xxx


End file.
